


Laundry Day

by scienceandmischief



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 17:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scienceandmischief/pseuds/scienceandmischief
Summary: Mallory loves how Michael smells; so much so that she's been stealing his clothes.Thoughts in italics.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Mallory
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Laundry Day

"Have you seen my pajama bottoms?"

"Which ones?"

"The blue ones."

She peered down at the article of clothing in question and slid the blanket over her legs before responding. "Nope."

"That's the third pair this week," Michael muttered as he stepped away from the closet with an exasperated sigh. "First the black ones, the red ones, and now these. Have you done any laundry this week?"

Looking at his back from her position on the bed, Mallory proceeded to consider her options: she could tell him the truth of how she was taking his pajamas since she preferred his over her own or she could continue playing the role of the innocent. Watching as he turned to face her, she offered him a faint smile. "Yeah, I did a load this morning. Probably still in the dryer. You should go check."

Watching as he let out a soft grunt of acknowledgement and left to go check the laundry room next to their bedroom, Mallory pushed the blanket off her lower torso and slid off the bed; the blue pair of pajama bottoms sliding over her feet as she stood. While she supposed she could purchase her own set, she loved the way his clothes both felt and smelled. From the moment they had moved in together, she had slowly begun stealing anything from t-shirts to pajama bottoms; his aroma flooding her nostrils wonderfully. Stepping lightly over to their shared closet space, Mallory was about to reach for where she had been hiding his clothes when she heard him call out to her. _Oh_, _fuck_.

Slowly turning around to face him while trying to consider what to say, the sight of him frowning annoyedly caused her mind to go blank. Struggling to think of anything to say, her panicked mind pieced together the beginnings of an idea as she backed away while reaching for the doors of the closet.

".. what're you doing?"

"Doing?," she paused in mid-pull. "Uh, trying to hide from getting yelled at?"

".. why would I yell at you?"

"For taking your clothes?"

"So, you admit to doing it. So, while I've been going crazy looking for my stuff, you've been taking it all. While I'm not going to yell, I'm still pissed, Mallory."

"Ah, well; understandable. Well, off to my escape route!" She focused her attention on closing the doors.

"Mallory, wait--," Michael darted forward and grasped onto the closing doors; his fingers gripping onto the wooden slabs as he stared worriedly at the woman he loved before continuing to speak. "Don't do that. Ugh, I hate when you do this: acting cute when I'm mad."

"I hate me more for doing it!," she exclaimed as she held onto the doors as well.

".. wait, what? Babe, we've talked about this. It's hard for me to stay mad at you because you're so cute. You shouldn't hate yourself for it."

"I shouldn't?," Mallory murmured as she let go of the doors; her gaze focusing intently on the tall blonde looking down at her just as intently.

"No, of course not. I just wish you'd let me know when you take my stuff."

"So you'll let me keep your pants?," she asked hopefully.

"No; not until you tell me why you keep taking them."

There it was, she thought to herself, as she watched the doors open; the warmth of Michael's hands curling around his favorite t-shirt that she took on their first year anniversary. Her chance to tell the truth had come once more and as she felt herself be pulled out of her last minute attempt at an escape route, she felt anxiety form in the pit of her stomach. Would he get mad? Would he find it funny? Questions of that variety and more flooded her mind before she sighed and moved forward to rest her forehead on his grey sweatshirt clad upper chest. "I like how you smell so I took them."

Blinking as he processed her admission, Michael let out a soft snort of amusement before he shook his head; his long, blonde locks draping over his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around the love of his life. "You're such an idiot, Mrs. Langdon."

"Shut up," she murmured lightly. "Are you still mad?"

Pulling away slightly as he drew his right hand up to curl under her chin to allow him better access, Michael smiled. "Oh, yes; so much so that I'm going to kiss that beautiful mouth of yours until you can't think straight."

"That's not humanly pos..--," her denial was caught off as the warmth of his lips along hers brushed away all manner of rational thinking. 

End.


End file.
